


Teamwork

by thedevilchicken



Category: Confident - Demi Lovato (Music Video)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 20:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14776794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: In jail, she had a lot of time to think.





	Teamwork

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Wavesinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wavesinger/gifts).



Alex is lying naked in bed in the early morning sun. 

She sleeps like that, more often than not, so Cat isn't surprised when she closes the motel room door and walks into the bedroom to find her there, like that. She's face-down against the pillow in a stray ray of sunlight that's shining in, from between the crappy curtains at the foot of the bed that don't close all the way. She's kicked the sheets clear off the bed onto a rug on the bare tile floor and her long hair is splayed all over, messy but somehow not totally a mess. Cat puts one cup of shitty gas station vending machine coffee down on the nightstand in the rings made by a hundred more and she sits herself down on the windowsill in the way of the sunlight. She sits there, waiting till Alex grumbles and shifts and looks back over one shoulder with one eye open, still stretched out on her belly. 

"Time to go?" Alex asks, sounding like she's still half asleep because she probably is. 

"We've got a few minutes," Cat replies. Her face scrunches as she takes a sip of her coffee and Alex eyes her warily. 

"Do I really need to drink that?" she asks. 

Cat shrugs. "Y'know, I don't know," she replies. "I thought it might help wake you the hell up. Do you have a better idea?"

Alex turns her face back into the pillows. "Sure," she says, muffled though she gets the point across, and she tucks one hand down underneath herself, between her and the mattress. "But you're a real long way away for what I have in mind."

Cat snorts and mutters _typical_ not quite underneath her breath. She takes another sip of what doesn't quite seem to be coffee as she knows it, as Alex's hips shift slowly against her own hand. 

She guesses maybe, just maybe, they have time for this before they go. It probably will wake Alex up, at least.

\---

In jail, all Cat had was time. And all she could do with that time was think.

She thought about all the places she'd been and all the things she'd done and what the US government could and couldn't pin on her, at least not without lying outright. She thought about the life she'd led and the sense of inevitability that had come along with it - inevitability that it would lead her to federal prison, one of those days. Still, she thought, better there than China or Russia or the Middle East. Still, she thought, better than not having some fun while she had the chance.

She thought a lot about how she'd traded diamonds and custom-tailored dresses for a grimy prison jumpsuit, and how she'd half expected that to happen one day. She'd expected to be caught because pretty much everyone in her line of work was eventually - she'd made her peace with that possibility, but in the end she she _hadn't_ been caught. She'd been betrayed instead of caught, and she knew exactly who it was who'd betrayed her. 

Paris was a two woman job: one to work the tech behind the scenes and one to work the room. There was a short timescale attached to it: in three days' time, the pieces would be back under lock and key in an impenetrable vault somewhere in the Netherlands. Cat didn't have the time to bring in her own team, to scout around and make the careful choices that she usually would, but Alex came highly recommended and by people she'd thought she could trust. For a score that big, for a job that exhilarating, she could take the risk.

They laid out the plan over drinks in Cat's suite; the way Alex smiled, she had no doubt they were going to have fun. They discussed the details later, in bed; that was where the fun started, but it didn't end there. 

They job went off without a hitch, with Alex's voice in her ear, until the end. The last thing she'd expected when it was all finally over was to find was her partner was undercover FBI. 

She had a lot of time to think in jail. She thought a lot about Alex Ortega, and the way she smiled.

\---

"Get up on your knees," Cat says, so Alex does just that. 

She pulls herself up onto her knees, still leaning down against one forearm with her thighs spread out wide so Cat can see exactly what she's doing. She's rubbing her clit with her fingertips, her toes curled into the near-threadbare sheets that are so different to where they stayed that very first night, and Cat shuffles aside to let the sunlight stream back in. It falls in a really well-placed beam across Alex's cunt, like she planned it, and Cat can see how wet she is. 

"I know you can do better," Cat says, and Alex makes an amused kind of turned on sound that's muffled by the pillows but Cat takes it on board anyway. Alex braces herself against one shoulder and she moves the arm she was leaning on, arching her back as she runs her hand over her back, over her ass, fingers teasing down between her thighs. She pushes one finger inside herself, then two, slowly, till she's fucking herself with them as she rubs herself. Cat can't say she doesn't appreciate the view. 

They've been working together for three years now, off the radar, around the world. They aren't the only two with barcodes branded on their wrists, not by any stretch of the imagination. And, as it happens, their organisation is totally legitimate: the problem was just that their recruiter wasn't. 

"Are you just gonna sit there and watch?" Alex asks. The strain and amusement she hears in her voice makes Cat smile. 

Sometimes all she does is watch; she likes the way Alex moves, the way she sounds, the way she looks when Cat tells her how to touch herself. 

Sometimes all she does is watch. Today, she stands, and she moves toward the bed. 

\---

The last thing she'd expected was undercover FBI, but that's what they said Alex was when they arrested Cat. 

Petersen was some kind of shadowy government agent, a fine representative of a similarly shadowy government programme. He said the guard on her job had died and she was looking at life without parole, so they'd taken her someplace she could think real carefully about her options. Cat was a thief and a con artist, a confidence trickster and a really good one 'cause she'd done it her whole life, but she wasn't a murderer. When she thought about how she'd been set up, she felt sick. When she thought about how she'd been set up, she felt angry.

In her cell at night, she thought about Alex Ortega, and her smile, and her hands, and the curves of her hips. She'd thought she was like her, just maybe a bit more brawn than brain, a bit more tech than technique, and she appreciated that. She'd lined up another job for the two of them once they were done, a little light art theft in Rome, one suite with two rooms but she was pretty sure they'd only use one. It would've been fun. It really would've been.

She thought about Alex Ortega. She thought about that night, her tongue between Alex's thighs, Alex's fingers twisting in her hair. She thought about the way they crushed their mouths together, almost too hard but not quite, maybe just hard enough. She thought about the way her pulse raced. She thought about seeing her again. She thought about what she'd do.

She didn't sign her name for a pardon. She signed it for revenge. 

\---

Cat goes to the bed. 

She kneels. She runs her hands over the back of Alex's thighs as she sits there, still dressed, her sandals abandoned on the floor her only concession to undressing. She leans in and runs one hand underneath her, over her belly, the rounded points of her perfect acrylic nails raking her just lightly right from her breasts and in between her legs. Alex shivers and she moves her hands away, pillowing her head against her arms. Cat cradles Alex's exposed cunt in one hand and she squeezes; she taps her there then, just once, not hard, with the back of that same hand. Alex laughs then takes a shaky breath and shifts her knees out wider. Alex might be stronger in a fight, but Cat knows she doesn't want control of this.

"On your back," Cat says, so Alex moves; she goes down on her back with her legs spread wide, her hands pulling tight at the bars in the frame of the bed above her head. She's beautiful, Cat thinks, as she runs the palms of both hands down over Alex's ribs, over her navel, down between her thighs. She ducks her head down, flipping her hair to the side with one hand, out of the way. She rubs Alex's clit with the pad of one thumb. She teases her with the tip of her tongue. She's not going to bother undressing; she figures when they get where they're going, she can take care of that. Alex will return the favor, or she'll go down on her knees the same moment that they've left the bed and she'll hitch one of Cat's thighs up over her shoulder and she'll make her shiver and she'll make her come. 

The job they have now isn't art and isn't jewels and isn't priceless artefacts - it's the kind of hi-tech spy shit Cat always used to see in movies, the kind of thing they were actually recruited for. Cat works the room and Alex works the tech and they're good at it. No one ever suspects them. The price their pardons came at really wasn't so high after all. 

Alex takes a shaky breath and Cat chuckles against her. 

These days, she knows Alex never betrayed her. She was never FBI; everything Petersen said was just lie upon lie upon lie upon lie upon lie, and she'd believed it.

They're a team now. They're stronger for it. And Cat won't doubt her again.


End file.
